The sparrowhawk

A sparrowhawk seared through the leaves and scarce moved a single one
Intent on its course and so in the blink of an eye was gone
Nothing moved thereafter for at least fifteen strangled minutes
The forest died with the bird whose life she had just diminished
 In a hollow of vacuum left in the vanishing slipstream
A pause button held testimony to where two lives had been.

Would this predatory wraith-like apparition come again
To test murderous eye, wing and talon coordination?
Don’t they have a regular patrolling route on which they scout?
Garden bird feeding brings birds in from barren farmed land without
A jungle of leafy trees and dense shrubs deceive with cover
But what conceals prey in equal measure conceals predator.

 Somewhere in the dying farmland lies a scattered wreath of down
Rained on a blooded corpse with frailest of feathers blown around
A pathetic memorial to a life not understood
Hail, higher life-forms the smaller would bow before if they could
The great kings and queens take a life to give a life to others
Thus display their love of life and become the greatest lovers.

© RM Meyer
Winswell Water, August 2019